


Learning to Defy Gravity

by girlofshadows1



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, High School, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlofshadows1/pseuds/girlofshadows1
Summary: Alexandria Cartwright is offered an amazing exchange opportunity to spend a year at McKinley High school all-expenses paid so long as she joins the Cheerleading team. Despite the unusual situation, she agrees and soon becomes wrapped up in the whirlwind of drama and pure chaos that makes up McKinley High. Maybe... just maybe, she'll learn something along the way that could change her life forever.
Kudos: 1





	Learning to Defy Gravity

Most of my friends think I’m crazy for choosing to take my exchange year in Ohio, rather than somewhere more exciting like France or Italy, but here I was. I arrived at the airport at about ten in the morning and I had the entire day still ahead of me. The change in time zone was mildly torturous to say the least, but that was only to be expected. A five-hour difference isn’t exactly small.

Once getting through security and collecting my bags, I made my way outside to attempt to find my escort from the school. The set-up for the exchange was unusual to say the least. McKinley High school agreed to provide me with accommodation and cover my living costs so long as I joined their… Cheerios? It sounded quite cringy if you asked me, but I wasn’t going to complain. I looked around, hoping to spot a… I pulled a printout of the email I had received with the important details on it. ‘Coach Sue Sylvester will meet you outside the airport upon your arrival.’ As to who or where this Miss Sylvester might be, I didn’t know.

“You the British kid?” a voice asked from behind me. I turned around to see a tall stern looking woman dressed in a brightly coloured tracksuit.  
“You must be Miss Sylvester. Pleasure to meet you,” I greeted politely and offered a hand to shake. She pointedly ignored it, turning and walking toward the car park. Obviously, she expected me to follow so I did.  
“Just because you’re from another country doesn’t mean you’ll get any special treatment. You’ll be expected to perform just as well as any of the other members of the Cheerios and to take my word as law,” Miss Sylvester told me.  
“I look forward to the year ahead.”

Sylvester opened the boot of the car and motioned for me to put my bags inside. I did so before the two of us climbed into the car. She started the engine and drove toward Lima. Neither of us spoke for the journey as she obviously had nothing to say and didn’t seem the type to engage in polite small talk. Eventually, she pulled up outside a house a couple of blocks away from the high school, which she informed me about the second she shut off the engine.  
“You’ll be expected to drive yourself places from now on. A car will be provided for you…”  
“That’s very kind of you, but I actually don’t know how to drive. The legal age requirement to learn in the UK is 17,” I interrupted.  
“Well that’s no excuse. You’ll just have to take some lessons,” she replied. I didn’t object to that. I retrieved the last bag from the boot and proceeded to drag them up toward the front door. 

Sylvester, after retrieving a box off of the back seat of her car, opened the front door for me and handed over the key. She then placed the box next to my bags. “That’s your Cheerios uniform. You’ll be expected to attend practice following the schedule I sent to you via email. Any missed practice will be punished.” I thanked her and then proceeded to settle in for what would probably be a year full of craziness.

The entire set-up is ridiculous. I mean they literally provided an entire house for me to stay in for the year. Exactly how much of a budget does this school have? It’s at least a bit excessive to cover all of my costs for the year, and from what I knew about the education system here, most schools are severely underfunded. 

Opening a door to the left of me, I found the kitchen. On the counter was a folder labelled as a welcome pack. I flipped through it and found a map of the school, a list of extra-curriculars and, helpfully, a map of the house. The first door on the right was the bedroom, so I proceeded to drag my bags up the stairs and put them on the floor by the bed. A large window adorned the wall opposite the door and bright light spilled across the room like a warm blanket. I grabbed the first suitcase and began to unpack. Opening the wardrobe, I grabbed a handful of coat hangers and began to hang up my clothes. It took no more than half an hour to get completely unpacked, which left me with plenty of time to properly peruse the Welcome booklet.

After reading, I was left with all the information I needed to begin living in Ohio. McKinley High would be providing me with a monthly allowance, which was way more than I probably needed, and the term dates for school meant that my first day would be tomorrow. Their dress-code was minimal and would cause no problems for me. I would need to report to the reception on my first day and would then be provided with a schedule. Seemed easy enough. At that point, I fell asleep.

I awoke just as the first hints of dawn were beginning to appear on the horizon and the birdsong was just starting to make itself known. A quick glance at the alarm clock by the side of the bed determined that I had a couple of hours until school started. Slowly, I went through my usual morning routine. Shower, brush teeth, minimal make-up, get dressed. I went to the wardrobe and selected a pair of black skinny jeans, a dark purple shirt and a black blazer with a playful bit of embroidery of flowers across the sleeves in an almost matching colour to my shirt. It was crucial that I made a good first impression, especially given the ruthlessness of high schools portrayed in the media. After all, there must be some sort of truth to it. 

I retrieved my rucksack, the only bag I didn’t need to unpack, and hurried out the door. The road was unusually quiet, but as I got closer to the high school, the typical cacophony of noise associated with a school could be heard. I stopped in a coffee shop on the way and purchased myself a croissant and a mocha before making my way into the school. The crowds of people meandering around outside were nothing short of the expectations presented by Hollywood. Social groups were easily identified by a newbie like me. In the far corner of the car park was the rebels, with their brightly coloured hair and all black ensembles, and the popular girls near the main entrance all wearing their cheerleading uniforms as a symbol of their status at the top of the social ladder. Then there was… jocks? The group were crowded around a dumpster in a loose huddle and were surrounding a kid who was in no way one of them.

They were… the bullies. Grade- A idiots who thought it was appropriate to treat others as inferior.  
“Oi,” I shouted before I could think better of it. Two of the bullies closest to the dumpster were lifting the boy as though to throw him in it. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I reached the group as I said this.  
“You want to go in the trash on your first day?” one of the bullies with a mohawk asked.  
“I don’t think you’ll be throwing anyone in the trash,” I replied coolly. So this was the ringleader.  
“There’s a whole lot more of us than there are of you,” he said.  
“But wouldn’t it be humiliating if I were to throw this coffee in your face on the first day back to school after the long summer holiday.” I took a step closer and removed the lid of the coffee cup. “Can your reputation take that after all that time away?” I continued.

“Fine,” mohawk guy snapped. “A free-pass today.” The tow bullies placed the boy back on the ground and immediately disappeared into the nearest building.  
“Are you alright?” I asked.  
“You didn’t have to do that,” he told me.  
“Of course I did,” I replied smoothly.  
“No really… I can deal with it,” he said.  
“You shouldn’t have to.” The sound of a bell echoed around, and the students started to file through any open door to the main building.  
I pulled the map from the welcome pack out of my pocket and began to look for the quickest route to the reception.  
“You’re new here aren’t you?” the boy asked. I nodded. “I’ll take you to the office so you’re not late.”  
“Thanks,” I replied. He took off across the carpark and I had to jog to catch up. “I’m Alex, by the way,” I told him as I realised I had neglected to introduce myself.  
“Kurt,” he replied. He opened the door and led the way to the reception. “This is it,” he told me. The receptionist greeted us and quickly wrote up a note for Kurt, presumably to explain why he was late to class, before addressing me.  
“I’d guess you’re the exchange student then?” the receptionist asked.  
“That’s correct,” I said. “I’m Alex Cartwright.”

She handed me my schedule and gave me a brief overview of the school rules before leading me to the principal’s office so he could officially welcome me to the school. “Come and see me after for a late note so you’re not in trouble on your first day,” she told me as she headed back down the corridor. The door opened and I was ushered into a brightly lit office. “Ah, Miss Cartwright, it’s lovely to finally speak to you in person. I assume your flight was fine?” he began. I nodded. “Excellent,” he nodded. “Welcome to McKinley, Miss Cartwright. I trust your year will be a pleasant one.” There was a slight pause. “I won’t keep you,” he finished. I turned and went along the corridors back to the reception and the receptionist immediately handed me a note. “Hand this to your teacher as soon as you arrive. Lets have a look at your schedule.” I handed the paper over and she efficiently gave me directions to my first class. I thanked her and quickly made my way through the unfamiliar corridors before arriving at what was only designated as the auditorium.

As quietly as I could, I opened the door so as to not interrupt the teacher speaking. The moment I had closed the door however, the teacher immediately turned his attention on me. “Nice of you to join us,” he said to me. Wordlessly, I handed the note from the receptionist to him, and after taking the time to read it, directed me to introduce myself to the class. “Hello,” I began. “My name is Alex Cartwright, and I’ll be a student at McKinley High as part of the exchange program for the next year,” I continued slightly awkwardly. The teacher gestured for me to take a seat at the front next to a short girl with long brown hair.

The teacher continued, I assumed, from where he’d left off, explaining the lesson and the concept of chair duets. He then paired us all off and I was partnered with a boy ginger hair and freckles who name, I’m ashamed to say, I forgot almost instantly. I picked up a couple of chairs for the stack in the corner and moved them to the corner of the room.  
“So… we’re going to need a storyline for this,” I said, hoping that this would cause the boy to engage in some form of productive conversation.  
“A couple fighting?” the boy suggested. “It’s dramatic.”  
“Sure,” I replied.

We spent the next half hour choreographing a chair duet which was pretty well-polished by that time before the teacher interrupted us to ask that we move from a chair duet into an improvised scene. “You have ten minutes and then each pair will be performing. These will be graded.” There was a series of groans from the class as the that particular announcement was made. 

Those ten minutes passed fairly quickly, and we were almost immediately after the time was up called to return to our seats to form an audience. A few pairs completed their performances before my pair was called up. The performance went perfectly, and as the performance came to an end, the brown-haired girl who I’d been sitting next to, began clapping. The lesson ended shortly after that, and I pulled my map out of my bag to try and find where exactly my maths classroom was.  
“You’re an excellent actor,” the brown-haired girl said. I looked up surprised.  
“Thanks,” I said before returning my gaze to the map.  
“You are truly the best performer in this class, with the exception of me of course, so you really should consider working with me for all grouped projects from now on,” she continued. My impression of her was that she was extremely conceited and, although talented, was particularly dislikeable.  
“I’ll think about it,” I replied dismissively.  
“Oh, you’re in the class next to mine. It would be my pleasure to show you the way.”  
“Thank you,” I replied as I slipped the map back into my bag along with my schedule. I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder as the girl waltzed out the door. I followed.

“I’m Rachel by the way,” she introduced herself. “Rachel Berry. You should remember that name because it will probably be featured heavily across Broadway within the next few years.” I mostly tuned out after that, although I don’t think she realised. We arrived at the classroom relatively quickly and Rachel disappeared off into her class next door. I walked into the classroom and once again had to introduce myself once again before being allowed to take a seat. This time I retrieved a notebook, pencil case and calculator from my bag as I took the empty seat next to the window. A couple of whispers rippled their way across the classroom as the teacher began talking. The lesson was just about differentiation so I could mostly just tune out having studied this already as part of my further maths GCSE last year.

The next couple of lessons followed a similar pattern. After my next couple of classes, it was time for the lunch break. I followed the large crowds of students heading in the direction of what I assumed was the cafeteria. It turned out to be the case as I walked into the cafeteria and joined the queue for lunch. After selecting and paying for a sandwich and fruit, the new challenge was to find somewhere to sit. Sitting alone was out of the question as it would almost certainly make me a target, which meant that I needed to find someone I recognised. I let my eyes scan the crowd for a moment. The stuck-up girl, Rachel was on a table with Kurt, various posters scattered across the surface of the table. Most other tables were full and there was nobody else that I recognised, so I made my way over.

“Do you mind if I join you?” I asked politely.  
“Of course,” Rachel said instantly. “It would be brilliant to discuss potential future performances.” Resigned to the fact that I was most likely to have to put up with Rachel’s arrogant ramblings for the whole of the lunch period, I pulled up a chair. “Have you signed up for any extracurriculars yet?” Rachel immediately asked.  
“I can’t say that I have,” I replied, hoping this wouldn’t lead into some sort of interrogation.  
“You should. It’s always really important to get involved as much as possible. Did you see the notice board? Mr Schuester is taking over the Glee club. You should try out. Both of you,” Rachel told us.  
“What exactly is a Glee club?” I asked. It wasn’t a term I had come across in Britain and… I was curious.

“Show choir,” Rachel replied. “Only the most amazing opportunity for the arts in this high school. I’m planning on auditioning and need some people to provide some killer backup.”  
“That sounds… great but I’m not exactly a singer,” I informed her.  
“Everyone can sing a bit… obviously not as good as me but I’ll help you with an audition piece. Same goes for you Kurt. I’ve reserved the auditorium after school today.” At that moment, food is tipped unceremoniously over Rachel, and then Kurt. Unexpectedly, I wasn’t treated as a target… probably because I was new and the system had yet to place me on a rung of the social ladder.  
“Are you alright?” Neither said anything. “Does this school not have an anti-bullying policy?”  
“We should probably go clean up,” Kurt said.  
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.  
“Just leave it.” The bell rang a few moments later and the I made my way to Spanish. It was quiet easily the worst lesson of the day. It wasn’t a subject I had studied before and I was never exactly very good at foreign languages. 

Once again, I had to introduce myself to the class before I was allowed to take a seat. The lesson went much slower than I would have liked, and I spent most of the lesson making notes that I barely understood. The teacher, after the lesson came to an end asked me to stay behind for a moment.  
“I know you’ve never taken the subject before, so I’d like to come up with a way to help you catch up with the rest of the class,” he said not unkindly.  
“I’m guessing I looked particularly confused…” I began.  
“Not at all…” he interrupted. “Figgins provided me with your academic background, and I noticed Spanish was absent.”  
“I took German at school in England,” I told him. “I’ll visit the library after school and pick up a couple of Spanish books.”  
“Alright. Just let me know if you have any questions about the lessons or…” he told me.”  
“Thank you,” I replied. 

My final lesson according to my schedule was a study period, so I navigated my way to the library and checked out a couple of Spanish textbooks as well as a couple of astrophysics books that looked interesting. I then proceeded to complete the set maths work until the bell went signalling the end of the day. I took my time packing away my notebooks before reluctantly returning to the auditorium.  
“You took your time,” Rachel snapped as I walked through the door.  
“I got lost,” I replied as a defence. I didn’t. Rachel was leaning against the piano, arms folded and looking every bit the stuck-up child that my first impression of her was.  
“Give the new kid a break,” Kurt told Rachel. 

Rachel said nothing to that, instead moving to play a couple of notes on the piano. “So… Alex, what’s your range?” she asked.  
“Uh…”  
“We have time to figure it out.”  
“I’m honestly not all that musical,” I told her.  
“Nonsense.” She ignored my attempts to persuade here that I couldn’t sing. “Have you got an mp3 player?” she questioned.  
“Yeah,” I replied, retrieving it from a smaller pocket in my bag. I passed it to her, and she scrolled through my playlists.  
“Lots of classic rock… some pop music… ooh Moulin Rouge. You have good taste.”  
“Thanks.”  
“You need to stop saying you’re not able to sing.” So, she did understand what I was saying. “A performer like you probably has a good singing voice.”  
“Maybe Alex doesn’t…” Rachel ignored this instead striking a chord on the piano.  
“One Day I’ll Fly Away,” she stated. “Sing that, and then I’ll stop.”  
“And my singing does not get mentioned outside this room,” I firmly tell her.  
“Of course,” she said, a grin spreading across her face.  
Rachel played a quiet chord on the piano. “I’ll start off and you just have to join in.” She starts singing the first verse and, knowing that had to accept my fate, joined in on the line ‘Leave all this to yesterday’. I closed my eyes and imagined I was at home, alone where nobody would judge me.  
“I think you exaggerating a bit about how bad you are,” Kurt said.  
“Some of your notes were sharp in places but overall not too bad. I’d be happy to give you singing lessons so long as it doesn’t in any way interfere with my impending star status as the leading singer of the Glee club,” she offered. “And good luck finding audition songs both of you.” She grabbed her bag and walked out, the door slamming behind her and the sound echoing throughout the auditorium.

“Is she always so…”  
“Intense?”  
“That’s one way to put it I suppose,” I said.  
“The two of us don’t exactly talk much, but from what I’ve heard… yes,” he told me. I picked up my bag before heading to the door. He followed, and the two of us walked down the corridor.  
“What are you going to do for your audition?” I asked to break the silence.  
“I’m not sure. I might have to seek help from someone else I know.” I opened the door and walked outside. “Are you going to audition?” he asked.  
“I’ll have to think about it,” I said. The two of us parted ways once we reached the school gate. I headed back to the house before going straight back out again for a shopping trip.

I had a feeling it was going to be an exhausting year.


End file.
